


How They Can Mess With Us

by beatperfume



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-31
Updated: 2011-12-31
Packaged: 2017-10-28 13:54:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,248
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/308551
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beatperfume/pseuds/beatperfume
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"It's pretty to tough to take when we square off and he takes one shot and then decides he wants to bail on the fight and really pretty much just threw me down ... We squared off, he took a shot and then didn't really seem to want to fight anymore ... It seems like he has a lot of stuff bottled up. He was talking lots before but didn't really say much after the fight.”<br/>-- Andrew Ladd on Ryan Kesler, 2010.</p>
            </blockquote>





	How They Can Mess With Us

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kathalcyon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kathalcyon/gifts).



> Thanks to Allison for being my audience through all the different incarnations of this fic. And thanks to Brian Burke for being a crazy sonofabitch and giving me the idea for this story.
> 
> Title from Garbage's Boys Wanna Fight.

This is the stupidest thing that Andrew has ever done.

Probably. No, definitely.

If anyone finds out about this, he will be in so much fucking trouble. With Coach, with the front office, with the whole damn league. If anyone finds out about this, they won't hesitate to suspend him, playoffs or no. He will be so, so screwed.

Probably.

If Kesler ever shows up.

Andrew leans against his car, parked on the nearly deserted top level of an all night parking garage on Wabash, and crosses his arms over his chest. It'll be May in 42 minutes, but the night air still has a bite. He should have brought a sweatshirt. He should be home, sleeping. The game tomorrow is a little bit important. He should get in his car, right now, and leave. If Kesler actually does show up, and Andrew's not here, that will be even funnier.

The elevator doors open, and Kesler walks out.

So much for that idea.

Andrew's heart is pounding from adrenaline as Kesler makes his way over to Andrew. He takes a deep breath and tries to keep his face expressionless.

It wasn't hard to get Kesler's number from Kaner, especially if he let Kaner think he and Kesler were going to "talk it out." It wasn't hard to find a place he knew would be empty, even on a Friday night. His hands were completely steady when he texted the address to Kesler this afternoon with the message, "Don't wanna back up your words on the ice? How about off it? -Ladd" He lied without guilt or hesitation when the guys wanted to go out for a drink.

And now he's here, and he's suddenly nervous like he gets right before he puts his skate on the ice at a big game.

"This is stupid," Kesler says. He's stopped three feet away from Ladd, and he's scowling like he didn't choose to come here.

"And yet, you're here," Andrew says.

"If I didn't come, you'd just say I was too scared." Kesler looks Andrew in the eye, really intense like he can get sometimes. "I'm not scared."

Andrew pushes off his car so he can get right in Kesler's face.

"Prove it."

Kesler shoves him, but Andrew reaches up and grabs his shirt on instinct, so he doesn't go far. Kesler stumbles a little with Andrew's weight pulling him, and Andrew takes that opportunity to punch him in the gut. They're pretty close, so Andrew can hear the soft grunt as Kesler's breath releases. It's kind of weird, actually. He'd never be able to hear that on the ice with the refs and the other players and the crowd screaming.

Kesler pulls back and throws a punch at Andrew's face. Andrew turns, but the blow still gets his cheek. It fucking stings. One hand still fisted in Kesler's T-shirt, he jabs at Kesler's chin. Kesler takes it and gets in a good one on Andrew's ribs.

They start really going at it then. Andrew gets at least one hard punch in the eye, but he bloodies Kesler's nose (again, ha!) right after that.

Kesler throws himself on Andrew, knocking them both to the ground. They both pause, but there are no refs to break it up. This fight goes until one of them yields -- and neither of them will.

Andrew wrestles Kesler to his back, but before he can get a punch in, Kesler manages to switch their positions. Andrew avoids a punch as best he can and tries to leverage Kesler back.

Without pads, Andrew can feel everything that Kesler is doing under his hands. From the way his muscles clench as he punches to the little twitches when he gets hit. It's weird and strangely -- intimate is the only word he can think of, and then wishes he didn't.

But he can't unthink it, and the grunts and heavy breathing all take on new meaning. Kesler's shirt is rucked up and Andrew accidentally brushes his bare skin with his hand. It's all very distracting, which is probably why Kesler is able to get in a punch that nearly dislocates Andrew's jaw.

Andrew manages to get a hold of Kesler's arms and flip him onto his back. He presses Kesler's wrists into the concrete and just sits on top of him, catching his breath.

"Tapping out?" Kesler sneers. His voice is rough and thick. There's blood leaking from his nose and smeared on his mouth. Andrew probably doesn't look much better. He doesn't bother answering Kesler, just leans on his wrists harder. Kesler tries to buck him off, but he can't get good leverage with his hands trapped above his head.

"Fuck you, Ladd. Had enough? Let go."

"No," Andrew says. Kesler's face is flushed, his breath quick. He's squirming, trying to get out from under Andrew and Andrew presses his thighs together to still him.

This. This is definitely the stupidest thing he's ever done.

Andrew hitches his hips so that their crotches are lined up. He can feel Kesler, definitely at least half hard, but fuck, he's a hockey player too. Andrew's been half hard this entire time, he just never thought to do anything about it before now.

"What the fuck, Ladd?" Kesler says, and his face is even more red now. "Is this what you wanted, you fucking --"

"Shut up," Andrew says. Kesler actually does, and Andrew doesn't know who is more surprised about that.

He leans down and bites Kesler's throat, hard. In a way, it's like they're still fighting, except for the moan Kesler lets out. It makes Andrew's hips buck a little, which means their cocks rub together again, and that's not bad at all.

"You like that," Andrew says.

"Fuck you," Kesler says, but he's not trying to get up anymore, so Andrew takes it as a yes.

He bites again, on the other side, keeping his hips moving. Kesler is fully hard in his jeans and moaning.

"You're a sick fuck," Andrew tells him.

"Takes one to know one," Kesler says. It's a totally childish response, but he bucks his hips again and Andrew is at least as hard as Kesler is, so maybe he can't argue with that. "Are you just gonna sit there and bite me or are you gonna fucking do something about it?"

"Something, like what?" Andrew asks lightly. "Something like make you suck my dick?"

"Why don't you suck mine?" Kesler snaps back, but Andrew catches the hitch in his breath, and he has to bite his lip and hold still for a second at how fucking hot it is that Kesler wants that.

He lets got of Kesler's wrists, and briefly wonders if there will be bruises there under his gloves tomorrow. He doesn't give Kesler a chance to push him off, just slides up his chest until his shins are pinning down Kesler's shoulders and his crotch is over Kesler's face.

"Should I make you suck it like this, while I hold you down?" Andrew asks. "Bet you'd love that."

"Fuck you," Kesler says.

"Yeah, you would." Andrew shifts forward and his knees immediately protest. Because they're laying on some fucking asphalt in a public parking garage. "Fuck," Andrew says. "Get in the car."

He stands up as gracefully as possible, which isn't much with the boner he's sporting. Kesler doesn't do any better though, so at least there's that.

Andrew keeps the backseat of his SUV down for the room, and he's never been more grateful. He pops the trunk and climbs in after Kesler, pulling the door shut.

"You really know how to spoil a guy, Ladd," Kesler says, shoving at Andrew's gear bag.

"You love it," Andrew says, and pushes Kesler onto his back. "So about you sucking my dick."

"So about you getting over yourself," Kesler says.

Andrew pops the button on his jeans and straddles Kesler's chest. "Or I could fuck your mouth until you choke."

"If you have the balls," Kesler says. "All I hear is talk talk talk."

If anyone in this car is all talk it's not Andrew, so he gets out of his jeans and boxers as quickly as possible. He hits his head on the ceiling and Kesler bursts out laughing until Andrew knees him in the side.

By the time Kesler catches his breath, Andrew is completely pantsless and sitting on Kesler's chest again.

"Open your mouth."

Kesler looks like he's going to protest, but then doesn't.

"Wider," Andrew says, shimmying forward. Kesler opens wider while also glaring at Andrew. It looks completely ridiculous, but Andrew keeps his thoughts to himself because he's about to put his dick in that mouth and he doesn't want it bitten off.

Kesler starts sucking as soon as the tip of Andrew's dick is all the way inside. He bobs his head, taking a little more each time. It feels damn good, and Andrew moans a little. He lets Kesler go at his own pace for a little while before Kesler’s own pace becomes too fucking slow.

He pushes his hips forward a little. "You can take more," he tells Kesler.

He pushes forward again, a little faster this time. Kesler tilts his head for a better angle takes it. Andrew slides his hand into Kesler's stupid hair -- he's always kind of wanted to pull it -- and uses his grip to tilt Kesler's head even more. He fucks Kesler's mouth faster and a little harder, and Kesler just fucking takes it.

There are little shivers going up Andrew's spine, and his thigh muscles are turning into jelly, but he tries to hold off because he wants to see how much Kesler can take; if Andrew can really make him choke, and if he'd really like it.

Kesler starts making these little grunting moans, the sound muffled around Andrew's cock. It's all Andrew can take. "Fuck, Kes, gonna-"

Kesler makes a noise, maybe to tell Andrew to pull out, but it's too late for that because Andrew comes down Kesler's throat, and Kesler sucks him through it.

He manages to tip himself to the side before he collapses.

"Jesus, you're a fucking prince, you know that?" Kesler bitches. "Am I supposed to take care of this myself?"

Andrew opens his eyes a crack and looks down at Kesler's cock, hard and red. He kind of wants to taste it, but he also wants to fuck with Kesler.

"Yeah," he says. "Jerk off for me."

"What the -- Really? You fucking asshole."

"I wanna watch you," Andrew says. "I wanna watch you jerk yourself off thinking about me. You're so hard, just from blowing me. I wanna watch you do it."

"Fuck," Kesler says, reaching down and wrapping his hand around his dick. "Seriously, fuck you."

"I don't think so," Andrew says, "but maybe I could fuck you."

Kesler groans. Andrew watches his hand move. He wants to get closer, so he rolls onto his side. He can feel the warmth of Kesler's body, and when Kesler takes a deep breath his shirt brushes against the bare skin of Ladd's arm. Jesus, they didn't even get their shirts off. And Kesler didn't even get his pants all the way off, they’re just bunched at his knees.

"I bet you'd fucking love that," Andrew continues. "You're so hot from my cock in your mouth, imagine my cock in your ass. I'd fuck you so hard you'd feel it for days."

Kesler's really going at it now, his hand moving fast, his hips jerking. His eyes are closed and his head tipped back, and Andrew can tell he's close.

"Open your eyes," he says. "Look at me."

Kesler does, a little, and turns his head to look at Andrew. His eyes are glazed and his pupils blown wide, and Andrew thinks he could get hard again if he had a little more time.

"How'd you like that? Every time you sit down on the bench you'd feel it, and you'd think about how hard I fucked you, and how much you loved it, and how you begged for it."

"Fffffffff --" Kesler doesn't even finish what he was going to say, because he comes all over his hand and his shirt.

When he's done he drops his head back with a thud.

Andrew looks up from Kesler and realizes that they're in his car, in a public fucking garage, and this is still the stupidest thing he's ever done. He starts looking for his pants.

"So much for the afterglow, eh, Ladd?"

Andrew pauses in buttoning his jeans. "Do you wanna come home and cuddle with me?"

"Fuck no."

"Then I guess you better pull up your pants and find a cab." He looks down at the jizz on Kesler's shirt. "And hope your roommate's asleep."

"Ugh," Kesler says. He pulls his pants up, sits up, and runs a hand through his hair. It still looks stupid. He opens the back door. "We're gonna kick your ass on the ice tomorrow night," he says.

"In your dreams," Ladd says. "Have fun golfing in two weeks."

Kesler rolls his eyes and slams the door behind him.

Ladd climbs into the driver's seat without bothering to get out of the car. He still feels a little boneless from orgasm, and the dried blood on his face is starting to itch.

This is definitely, totally, the stupidest thing he's ever done.

And fuck him if he isn't wondering when they can do it again.


End file.
